Supernatural Defence Squad
by Vocabelle8aph
Summary: British teen Arthur Kirkland has an aptitude for the supernatural but all he wants is a peaceful and uneventful school life. This becomes impossible when he meets the excitable Alfred F. Jones; who wants Arthur and his knowledge of the bizarre to set up a 'Supernatural Defence Club'. Can the two help their classmates with their 'spooky situations?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I've finally gotten around to writing a Hetalia fan fiction! I'm so happy~! I just hope people like it... TT_TT** **Also, I have to thank my little sister for helping me out and DrRemitrom for Beta reading! It makes me so happy that you're willing to give up your time for me. As happy as Italy with a lifetime supply of pasta.** **Anyway, I own nothing. Not hetalia, not its characters and nothing else at all...**

* * *

The two boys looked at their unlikely first customer. That is, if you could even call her a customer. She looked uncomfortable in her seat and shuffled further into its firm, worn back before making eye contact with her soon-to-be-saviours.

Her platinum blond hair fell short of her shoulders and was held out of her eyes by several clips and a yellow hair band. Sure, she was a conventionally pretty girl with bright blue eyes and soft skin, but that wasn't the first thing any sane man thought of when they looked at her.

She let out a sob and her ridiculously oversized chest bounced and convulsed. Arthur tried his best to look away (he was a gentleman, after all!) but to the right of him, his American friend was flat out staring. And was that drool dripping down his chin? Arthur gave the American a hard kick in the shin, a skill he had picked up from hours of football practice. At least he was able to put it to good use.

He smirked at his own personal joke while Alfred cursed and grabbed his leg. He had no right to complain. After all, it was this over-excited idiot's own stupid idea for Arthur to give up two hours of his time after school (every bloody day) to help students with their 'problems from beyond the grave'.

* * *

At first, Arthur was just happy that someone believed in his magic and didn't think he was bat-crap crazy. There had been quite a few near misses (involving his love for magic) in his previous schools that had caused him to move around a lot more than the average teen.

His older brother and sister had grown tired of constantly relocating so Arthur was forced to live out the rest of his High School days in this crowded 'International Academy' that housed students from all over the world. No matter how badly he ballsed this up, he had to stay here.

He had to hand it to his older siblings; they could be scary when they wanted to. Allestor and Catrin Kirkland had raised Arthur after their mother passed away and had been like a mother and father to him ever since. Arthur didn't particularly need them to tell him off right now; he could already see how tired they had become after moving into their fifth house.

For their sake, he had to make the most of this.

Alfred began questioning the timid girl, his booming voice reluctantly pulled Arthur back to reality. A look of anticipation spread across Alfred's face when the blond girl opened her mouth to talk.

"My name's Katyusha Braginski..."

She gulped, pulling back any apprehension. She looked at the two men timidly, noting their intent and serious focus on her before finishing her sentence.

"... And I was attacked by a vampire."


	2. Chapter 2- The Letter

**A/N: I don't own hetalia or anything at all!**  
**Not much to say really. **  
**I filled this chapter up with USUK fluff. I don't usually ship that pairing, but it just turned out that way ^_^**  
**Arthur's brother and sister are indeed Wales and Scotland, for those who didn't know~!**  
**Also, I've realised I have Canada syndrome. Not many people in my school know/ remember who I am... *sniff*. I'll just have to wear my Belarus cosplay- then I'll stick in their minds! Heh heh heh...**

* * *

Arthur lurched forward, spitting out his fragrant Darjeeling as he did. He should have been prepared for that; there were bound to be a good few nut jobs and whack-a-doodles on this job. But vampires... He'd never seen a vampire.

"Miss Katyusha, I'm sure this is very traumatising for you, but are you sure what you saw was a vampire?"

Katyusha looked taken aback, as though what she said was a perfectly normal statement for a High School girl to make.

"B-but, my sister..." she began.

Alfred's ear twitched at the mysteriously remorseful tone her voice took on. He was a hero. It was his job to help maidens in distress. Why did Arthur have to be such a stick in the mud about everything? It was really making their job a lot hard than it needed to be.

The Ukrainian girl finished her sentence.

"My sister Natalya has been missing for two days. Before she disappeared she told me she felt like she was being followed." The girl sniffed and clumsily wiped away a tear forming in the corner of her eye.

The British boy didn't see that one coming. Maybe, just maybe...

But the logical side of his brain was still in control, and was, of course, almost always right. He clicked his knuckles and locked eyes with Katyusha.

"This still doesn't prove it was a vampire."

"Oh, well about that..." She said, casting her mind back to the incident.

"He told me he was a vampire. He certainly looked the part, anyway. He had the cloak and the teeth... Oh, and it was after sunset when he cornered me."

There was no doubt in the American's mind. This had to be a vampire. Adrenaline courses through his veins. Yes, this was it! His chance to be a hero.

"Lady, we accept your case!" He proclaimed, standing up from his chair, fist pointing triumphantly to the heavens.

Alfred could only imagine how inspiring he looked then. 'Ha. I bet Iggy thinks I'm a real hero now!' Wait, what? Why did it matter what Arthur thought of him? They were just friends, nothing more.

"Well thank you for that awe inspiring display, Alfred. I'm sure no one here can question your- uh, courage." The Brit selected his words carefully.

"Thanks, Iggs!"

The blond boy said, not sensing the obvious sarcasm in his British friend's voice.

"And for gods sake, don't call me 'Iggs'! My name is Arthur, thank you very much!"

He gave his friend a stern glare, only to find it returned with the soft, endearing stare of puppy dog eyes. Dammit, why did he have to be so cu-

Arthur cut himself of mid thought, his cheeks flushed with a dark crimson. He shouldn't be thinking such crude thoughts. How could he think that stupid American idiot was cute? He didn't. He couldn't. There was just no way.

He managed to calm himself down enough to find his friend's face pressed up against his own.

"Wh- what the hell!? Get away from me, you idiot!"

The American looked surprised, yet drew away from his friend none the less.

"You looked like you might have a fever. Your face went really red all of a sudden."

He gave Arthur a quizzical look and took his place on the chair to the right of his friend's.

"Yes, well..." The Brit stuttered before returning to their customer who stared at them intently, looking as though she was more interested in their conversation than her own 'vampire' problem.

* * *

The awkward silence in Allestor Kirkland's car continued to hang in the air as the red headed man and his younger brother travelled towards their small, suburban home.

Little changed throughout the journey, in fact, it could be said the most exciting part of the commute was the discovery of a very dead hedgehog lying next to the vehicle as it waited in a frustratingly long traffic jam.

Arthur needed to break the silence. Anything would do. Anything at all. He scanned his mind for something interesting to tell his comparatively disinterested older brother. It also had to be something good, after all, his siblings were so used to hearing bad news on their journeys home.

"So... I joined a club today"

He saw a glint of interest in his brother's eyes through the wing mirror.

"Ay. And what do you do in this club?"

He gulped. His brother was a very unpredictable man. There was really no telling how he would take it.

"I... Investigate supernatural mysteries."

The silence continued for a few more unbearable seconds before a deep and uncontrollable laughter filled the small car.

"Artie! That's perfect for ye'!"

At first Arthur wasn't sure what to make of Allestor's hysterical reaction but shrugged it off, deciding that all in all, he took it rather well (although Arthur wasn't sure how much he liked being the subject of such uncontrollable laughter).

"It's not that funny! My first job is to track down some kind of vampire with no evidence to help. I swear, it was the most ludicrous thing I've ever heard!"

His brother's eyes narrowed as he addressed his younger brother.

"Seein' is not believin', Artie."

The car pulled up at a small, red bricked house before either could finish arguing their point.

Arthur spotted his older sister running towards the car as it parked on their driveway. Her dirty blond hair was knotted messily on the side of her head and her eyes held a gleaming look of excitement.

"Arthur, I'm so glad you made a friend! Oh, and he was so good looking too! Long blond hair and rugged stubble... If he wasn't so young maybe I would-"

Arthur broke her off mid-sentence, fully aware of how often his sister started rambling.

"Did you let some weirdo into our house again? The only friend I have hasn't the foggiest idea of how to reach this place."

"And it wasn't for lack of trying." He added quickly, remembering how he spent half an hour giving Alfred directions before he realised it was a hopeless cause.

"Hmm... I suppose he must have been some kind of shady character, then"

Catrin reached into her pocket and pulled out a small envelope with the name 'Arthur' written on the front in calligraphic handwriting.

"He left you this. I know he's suspicious, but I promised him I'd pass it on."

Arthur didn't beat around the bush. Thinking of how the bloody wanker could have taken advantage of his sister, he ripped open the letter and peered inside.

It was at this moment Arthur Kirkland realised he may have misjudged this town, this case even. He gently lifted the envelope into the air and let the contents fall out onto the gravel.

A pale pink rose petal drifted to the ground, followed by a long platinum blond hair.


	3. Chapter 3- Cupboards and Missions

**A/N: thanks so much for reading my story! I'd really appreciate any reviews letting me know if I should continue the story (not that I'm threatening you guys or anything!)**  
**I've realised that British food really isn't anything to write home about. All we really have is fish and chips and the roast dinner... Meh, oh well! It may not be the height of culinary sophistication, but I think it's yummy! ;)**  
**I don't own hetalia or its characters and all characters used are AU!**

* * *

"Remind me again why we're here?" Arthur asked, a chill running down his spine where he stood in the unheated school.

The corridor itself was reasonably small and lay atop a set of stairs that wound their way up the building from the ground floor to the third. A large, rectangular window stood behind the two boys and revealed the hazy image of a new moon, barely just peeking out from where it hid behind the undefined clouds of early dusk. Nothing could be heard apart from the British boy's occasional sighs and complaints.

As far as Alfred was concerned, he was living the dream. It's not every day you get to sneak in after school closes in search of a vampire. He felt kinda like that lame-ass, posh British detective guy, Arthur always rambled on about.

It was then, Alfred realised he must have voiced those thoughts out loud, as his friend turned to him with an enraged expression on his face.

"That's Sherlock Holmes you're talking about, you wanker! Conan Doyle is one of the greatest authors the world has ever seen- show some respect!"

In response, Alfred simply giggled (not at all like a school girl) at the extraordinarily thick arches Arthur's unruly eyebrows were creating as he lectured his friend.

"Whatever, dude. It was you who wanted to come her after you got that spooky letter."

* * *

After that particular incident, the two boys spent their entire afternoon staring at the school's database of students, hoping to find one that matched Catrin's very brief and somewhat exaggerated description of their mystery postman.

It wasn't until they scrolled down to the letter 'B' section that they found something could be described as a 'lead'. The uniform rows of the databases had presented them with the stiff image of a young man, shown to be the same age as Alfred and Arthur, although seemingly more mature in his appearance. The text that sat tightly underneath the picture of the blue eyed blond, said 'Bonnefoy Francis'.

"... Well, he certainly looks shady enough." Alfred started, breaking the awkward silence.

"I mean, how many seventeen year old guys have pony tails and stubble?" He answered an exasperated look of derision on his friend's face.

Arthur stared intently at the hazy image of the possible perpetrator as it flickered on and off the computer screen. Were they in over their heads? If they were dealing with a real kidnapper, then was it wise to chase after him? Also, by hunting down this clearly disturbed lunatic, were they breaking any school rules?

There was only one thing Arthur knew for certain. They were a long way from being able to put Francis Bonnefoy behind bars.

* * *

Everyone was looking his way. Yes, everyone. For him, the corridor parted like the Red Sea for Moses, the other kids could sense his dominance the way a pack of gorillas did with their Silverback.

So you may wonder why someone with as much swag as Alfred F. Jones was hanging out with, arguably, the most unpopular kid in School. Well, that is a good question, but we'll have to answer that another time, because right now, Alfred F. Jones was on a mission.

This was a mission of upmost importance that only a hero like him could complete. As he wound his way up stairs and down corridors, he smirked to himself and kept a straight and heroic posture about him, pausing every now and again to put his hands on his hips and boldly survey the 'civilians'. Seriously, all that was missing was the cape.

The gum-plagued double doors flew open and revealed the school's west wing that was lined with red lockers surrounded by students. Alfred knew this place well- it was ideal for chatting up girls and meeting new people. This time, however, all the girls had been wooed and the friends, made. He was here for information.

He leaned casually against the top row of lockers, adopting a stance that invited one in to conversation without invading to much of their personal space. It also showed off his height; he was tall enough to almost brush past the brim of the doorways and thought of that as more of a blessing than a curse, as he was able to use that to show off to chicks.

"Gil, bro! How ya been?"

He gave his albino friend a smirk, and the two bumped fists. Gilbert Beilschmidt was the school's most notorious joker, so naturally the two got along.

"What's new with you, Gil?"

The Prussian paused to recollect his undoubtably busy school week, remembering the five pranks he had already managed to pull off (not without getting lectured by the principal). After a minute or so of thinking it through, he shrugged at his tall friend, figuring nothing he could say would surprise the American.

"Nothing really." He pulled a red folder out of his ridiculously messy locker, managing to knock over a can of deodorant when doing so.

"But I believe you have news for me, mein freund! Keseseses..."  
Alfred gave Gilbert a confused look. Although his laugh was extremely unusual (not to mention annoying), it was something else that bothered him.

"News? I don't think so." A look of recognition spread across Alfred's face. Of course he knew about that. The whole school had been in uproar about his new found friendship with the local nut case; Arthur Kirkland.

"How come you're playing detective with blond Harry Potter?" Gilbert smirked, showing his teeth. "It's almost hilarious."

"Whatever, dude. I came here for your help. I wouldn't have bothered if I knew you were going to be a total jerkwad about it."

The steady flow of high school students fluttering from locker to locker began to slow, as it usually did at that time of day. The majority of the students at the school preferred to leave as soon as possible at the end of the day, rumours of vampires seemed to spread quickly...

"It's really important. Do you know Francis Bonnefoy? He could be the vampire. He's dangerous and still out there. Please."

Gilbert said nothing. He simply took hold of his bent locker door and opened it slowly. When the rusty red door reached Alfred, he could he see a dozen photos taped to its silver inside.

Alfred gulped as he took note of a Polaroid of Gilbert with his arm around a certain mysterious Frenchman.

* * *

Nothing had happened for one hour, thirty seven minutes and twenty two seconds. Arthur's watch never betrayed him, it had seen him through long test papers and boring social occasions for nine years and had always been accurate. Down to the second.

In irritation, he gave his watch a frustrated flick with his index finger. He was just about through wasting his time when he noticed a figure eclipsed in the corridor's shadows approach a set of lockers. To his right, Alfred was tensed and looked as though he was ready for a fight. Arthur hoped for his own sake, he didn't get what he wanted.

A glimpse of light from a passing car's headlights cascaded over the darkness for little more than a second, but it was enough for the boys to notice the gleaming of blond hair. It looked like Gilbert Beilschmidt's information was right- Bonnefoy did come to school after dark.

Francis knelt down and pried open a locker from the bottom row. It was common knowledge that the lockers on the third floor were too old for use. In fact, as far as the students were concerned, the entire third floor itself was too old for use. It now only housed a science laboratory and the teacher's lounge. No one would think to search these lockers.

The Frenchman pulled out a pair of silver keys before walking steadily towards the stair case.

Aw, shit.

Alfred took hold of Arthur's coat and pulled him unsteadily towards him. With Francis's footsteps becoming closer, the boys darted down the steps and threw themselves into the janitor's cupboard, just in time to see the alleged 'vampire' strut past, humming 'Frère Jacques' to himself.

"N- now what do we do?!" Arthur asked between pants. He wasn't used to being thrown into cupboards in such short notice. He realised how inappropriate his thoughts sounded and blushed to himself. There really wasn't much room between him and Alfred in there...

"hey! Did you hear that? He just opened the doors to the stairwell next to us. That means he's going to the basement."

Arthur looked down into the corner of the storage cupboard. "You're right. We'd best get a move on then."

He needed to get his head in the game and his mind out of the gutter.


	4. Chapter 4- A Lot of Latin

**A/N: to all the people that are following the story and are reviewing; thank you so so much! You people really make my day~! Special thanks to DrRemitrom, SakuraMoriChan and Corbenick and Sky 1412 for following. Basically, thanks to anyone who's even read one chapter!**

* * *

"I don't know if I like this idea..."

Alfred mock punched his friend, knowing it would annoy the hell out of him. You might say Arthur Kirkland was an extremely sensible and cautious young man. That, or he was a complete and utter scaredy cat. Alfred was convinced it was the latter.

"Look Iggs, I bought this so we'll be fine." Alfred said, pulling out an unimpressive brown onion from his hoodie pocket.

"It's garlic! Vampires are afraid of garlic, you imbecile!" How stupid could one guy be? These two high school students were now going to have to face a terrifying nocturnal killer with a bulb no bigger (and a good deal lighter) than a cricket ball. Arthur didn't like their odds.

Whilst the Brit continued his internal monologue, Alfred gingerly pushed an ear against the door of the old janitor's room that they followed Francis to. His hearing, like his reflexes and strength, was extraordinarily good. Shame his brain didn't work to the same standard.

"Non, no, mon petit! Hold still and it won't hurt one bit. I just need to feed, and then you can become my lover !"

Alfred was surprised at how badly the thick door canceled out the sounds of those behind it. It wasn't usually this easy for the hero to discover the villains grand plan. If you could even call Fracis' cliché design a plan.

"Right then, I suppose this is where we head on in, yes?" Arthur had emerged from his little solitary panic and seemed all the better for it.

The American noticed that if he left him to it, Arthur would often worry himself to confidence within about fifteen minutes. Tops. He then metamorphosed into a surprisingly easy going person; although some may say a little too easy going. Alfred learnt that the hard way when he bullied his friend into playing chicken with him on a set of rail tracks outside of town. He ended up having to push his head strong friend out of the way of a rather large train.

At that, Arthur knocked politely on the door and entered the room slowly, much to the horror and bewilderment of his friend.

"I'm sorry to bother you Mr. Bonnefoy, but we're here to beat you up and rescue this lovely young lady."

If that wasn't enough, he quickly added; "It won't take up much of your time."

Francis looked almost as mind blown as Alfred for a moment but then, after looking Arthur up and down, let it slide, grinning at him like the sexual predator he was.

"Oh hoh hoh, you're English are you? Then I must call you Angleterre!" He raised a hand to his mouth and chuckled into it, amused by the new nickname. Outside, Alfred wretched at the overly feminine gesture and tried to formulate a plan to save Arthur, Natalya and any other innocent young girls or ridiculously confident idiots, stupid enough to fall for the sickeningly sweet French lech. Unfortunately, activities that involve ones brain were not really this American's strong suit, so we'll come back to him, shall we?

Arthur wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but he had a feeling that the French man was coming on to him. He retreated one step further to find his legs knock against a wooden chair on the far side of the room. He was cornered.

"Don't worry, mon Cher, I won't do anything to damage that beautiful face!" He giggled at Arthur's delightfully scared expression; becoming a vampire wasn't as entirely terrible as he thought. It gave him a certain... Je ne sais quoi.

Arthur unexpectedly returned the smirk as he picked up the wooden seat and crashed it against the wall. In a second, he lifted up a fragment of wood and held it dangerously close to Francis' chest.

He gulped. This regular human boy actually put up a fight, and he wasn't an idiot either! One more inch further and that stake would penetrate his heart, and then, game over.

"Now now, we're all friends here..." He began, his voice slightly whimpering. But before he could continue with his pleading, the British boy spoke in an unfamiliar language; although, it was more of a chant.

"Amor animi vires spem. Band simul, godess potentes simus lux in tenebris regina magica. Sit Benedictus! Sit Benedictus! Bene vivere, et esse beatus!"

Arthur's voice fluctuated at the end of the spell, and as it did, a gleaming blue magic circle appeared. That was enough to distract Alfred from his plan making. Magic was... real? And his friend seemed to look just as surprised as he did. No one spoke for a good while and the three men and bound girl looked at each other with confusion.

Amidst the slow spin of the blue seal, Francis' face changed greatly, his eyes turning a pure and complete black and... fangs protruded from his mouth. Not only magic was real, but vampires were real too!? What the hell?

"Iggy, . SO. FRICKING. AWESOME." Alfred leaped into the room, poking his tongue out at Francis who appeared trapped in Arthur's force field spell.

A clatter was heard as Natalya dropped a knife to the floor, along with the ropes that bound her. The small room seemed even smaller than before; each student standing and unable to address one another. Her stare bore into Arthur and Francis, as though she was waiting for something to happen.

At a loss for words, she darted out of the room, running like a madman; just pausing at the exit long enough to whisper a quick 'Thank you'.

* * *

Arthur wasn't sure he wanted to come to school, or if anyone, namely Alfred, wanted him there in the first place. He was tired and extremely confused. Upon arriving home the previous night, he tried, to no avail, to recreate the spell he cast in the janitor's room. Nothing. Nothing happened at all.

He wondered absentmindedly, as he turned open the door to the club, if it had all been a dream. What he found behind the door was proof enough that it wasn't.

Alfred sat on a chair with its back to his front, a hand of cards neatly fanned out in his fingertips. Opposite him was Francis, legs crossed and a set of cards in hand. The two chuckled and looked up to see the shocked Brit at the entrance.

"Bonjour, Angleterre. Isn't it great? Alfred let me join your little club!"

_What the bloody hell has my life come to?_


	5. Chapter 5- A Spectre Calls

**A/N: okay, so because of my GCSE exams getting closer and closer, and my parents and teachers constant demanding of me to 'revise' and 'work', in gonna upload less often. Please bare with me, though! The stories will be updated when I have any time to spare.**

A bit if good news: after approximately June 17th, I will have about a whole month off school; which means new stories and one shots! Yay! Possibly some spamanogypsyyuri. I'm not saying anything though...

* * *

Sadiq Annan was the sort of naturally unlikable boy that flourished in his high school years; physically intimidating, short tempered and fuelled by testosterone and general teen angst. He always wore a dark green hoodie that shaded the top half of his face from human sight. He liked it that way; it made people even more intimidated when he beat them to a pulp. He had accumulated a posse of sorts, finding other misunderstood boys wanted as much as him to show some form of dominance and control in their lives.

Sadiq and his gang never held any particular grudges, they just chose their victims at random, making sure never to pick a fight with any of the students deemed 'cool'. Certain classmates they enjoyed cornering most were the timid social outcasts. These included the slow Greek boy Heracles Karpusi, the culinarily apt pansy Feliciano Vargas, 'defence against the dark arts' Arthur and computer buff Eduard Von Bock.

The later of these was trying his absolute best to ignore the Turkish douche bag while looking intensely at his computer screen. The computing lesson had been extremely slow, especially considering the teacher of said lesson had left his class in favour of an extremely young woman that appeared at his door, wanting to 'go out'.

"Come on Eddie! Didn't your mama tell you it's rude to ignore someone?"

Sadiq was growing tired of the Estonian's neglect of comebacks, and was beginning to think that if he didn't inspire fear in his victim's eyes, his 'friends' would inspire fear in his eyes. Business wasn't running particularly well for the hooded ne'er do well. Just yesterday, he had approached mystical Arthur in the canteen and was just about to flip his lunch tray, when that ridiculously strong champion of justice, Alfred, bent his arm in extremely unnatural ways.

Sadiq was growing tired of pretending to be something he was not. He turned away from life's opportunities, and before he knew it, everyone around him had made friends and joined clubs. Some had even fallen in love. Yes, it was definitely time to move on. Maybe he could patch things up with Heracles, he could visit his grandma more often and finally buy that electric hand whisk he wanted; it was so much easier to beat the eggs-

Bam!

A sloppy left hook pounded fiercely into his jaw. He felt a very brutal force behind it, a kind of unforgiving, mechanical, inhuman force. In fact, by the time he had come to the conclusion that some heartless psychopath just punched him, he was already knocked down onto the floor with a black eye and broken nose.

Above him, a familiar face kicked in his ribs. It was Tino, the easy going, small Finnish boy. But that didn't make sense- last time Sadiq had seen Tino, he had been petting an adorable puppy whilst sheltering it from the rain with his umbrella. How did that become this!? And how could that tiny boy knock down the Turkish man who was twice his size?

Those were the last thoughts going through Sadiq's head as lost copiousness.

* * *

"I suppose it does have a certain supernatural ring to it."

Francis already had his arm around the Englishman's neck before he replied.

"I think it's the perfect job for us!"

"Yes- 'us', not 'you'. And unhand me this instance, you perverted French git!"

To Arthur's dismay, his fiendishly strong friend interrupted him before he could knock some sense into his new 'colleague'.

The Frenchman assumed a stern position opposite Arthur, crossing his arms like a stroppy schoolboy. He looked quite ridiculous, and his sympathy inducing stance had the opposite effect on the Brit, causing him to involuntarily chuckle.

"Angleterre! You act like such a jerk towards me, but I've been working hard on our little mystery. Here!" He shoved a printout in Arthur's face while Alfred smirked down at his friend, in a seemingly proud manner. Arthur found this extremely frustrating, considering he almost definitely did not do any of that work himself.

Green eyes skimmed the crinkled sheet, ignoring page after page on the students involved; he'd seen enough of Sadiq as it was, he didn't need a fact sheet to tell him he was a prick. Besides, who's to say Arthur wasn't pleased that Sadiq got some sense pounded into him? Okay, so maybe it was more than a bit suspicious that the perpetrator of said 'crime' had no memory of the event and insisted on sending the bully a basket of fruit in his hospital bed, but besides that, it wasn't really a big mystery. Right?

He continued to stumble through page after page of research, only partially paying attention to what he was reading, when he found a printout of a newspaper. 'Teen murdered in classroom'. Arthur's magic senses were tingling like crazy. After all, it's not everyday you find a murder occurred two years ago in the same room that an innocent boy some how ended up giving the resident cut up a black eye and a few more scars to remember him by.

"Impressed, mon Cher? I know you and I both understand how 'possession' works, non? I think we have a vengeful spirit on our hands."

* * *

Francis chuckled his signature laugh, enjoying deeply the look of surprise and gratitude in Arthur's deep green orbs; noticing it was tinged with ever so slight annoyance. He was going to take the Brit on the supernatural bonding trip of a lifetime, whether he liked it or not. After all, it had been a while since the vampire had found someone truly interesting and attractive, and he wasn't about to let him go. Besides, Arthur was a challenge, and the only thing he liked better than a challenge was the blood of the innocent.

* * *

The Supernatural defence squad lurked behind after hours to visit their dead suspect, Arthur supposed that was just kind of what they did now; they were the weirdos that played at ghost busters after hours. That was definitely going to go down well with his favourite bullies; not only did he believe in magic, but hung around the school at night to make contact with souls from beyond the grave.

Just while Arthur was in the middle of his 'fuck my life' moment, he felt a strong hand reach onto his shoulder, and in a second, Alfred was walking next to him.

"Iggy... We aren't gonna die are we?" The American sniffed at him. Well that came out of nowhere. Of all the things Arthur expected to hear his lively companion say during their spooky missions, that was not one of them.

He didn't think tall, strong, charismatic (and quite good looking...) Alfred F. Jones would be afraid of ghosts. Perhaps he could play the straight man and tell him that vengeful spirits are a load of hokum, but that would be, quite frankly, a blatant lie. He needed to say something- his comrade was in desperate need of moral assistance, and as club president it was his duty to calm the nerves of his subordinates. At least, that's what he told himself while trying desperately to justify his longing to give the crybaby a big old hug.

_Alright, let it never be said that Arthur Kirkland isn't one to help his friends in need._

He stepped towards his friend as they prepared to enter the crime scene, arms spread slightly open. "Alfred, I-"

The Brit wasn't able to complete his mission, as he was pushed (rather violently) into said mysterious classroom by a put-out Frenchman. A flurry of colourful curse words urged to escape his lips, but none found their way out due to the sudden silhouette emerging before him. He felt Francis run to his side, followed by a less eager Alfred, both curiously gazing at the image of a dark haired teen that seemed to flicker around the edges like an old video recording.

Quickly, two large and inquisitive emerald eyes snapped open, and a grin spread across the dead brunette's face.

"Hola! Looks live I've finally got some company. You can be my new Amigos!"


	6. Chapter 6- The Computer Room's Ghost

**A/N: I'm sorry for neglecting this fic, but I've been pretty preoccupied with Game of Thrones. I mean who hasn't? ;) I may just have to write a GoT story. I've also been sorta planning a medieval fantasy Hetalia fic that I might start in the summer. Don't feel obliged to read it, as it will probably suck. I don't own hetalia...**

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The computer room was not the nicest of places to keep a permanent residence, as Antonio Fernandez Carriedo found out after living there for two years. After the first five months he developed an aptitude for his condition and had come to terms with the fact that no one would ever see him again, but he was lonely and sad and couldn't help remembering all the things he missed from the world of the living. He missed eating Churros and tending his tomato garden. He missed his family and best friends. He missed taking a siesta in his overly comfortable bed, and playing with the children that walked down his street. _Not in a creepy way, of course._

In life, Antonio had been a caring and cheerful young man who was loved by his family and all those around him. At least that's what it said on his smooth granite gravestone that he visited one day. That was all God had seen fit to give him in his darkest hour; a release from the suffocating walls of the educational establishment he died in, in the form of the ability to fade away and reappear in a far off location whenever he so desired. He used this ability to better improve his moping skills by visiting long forgotten family members and revelling in the melancholy of being hidden away from them in a separate world for the dead.

He couldn't even change his clothes. He was stuck in the uncomfortable school uniform he died in. Life just about couldn't get any worse for the previously easygoing Spaniard.

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It was one afternoon when he wandered absentmindedly down the corridor that he first noticed the change. He had been whistling the riff to one of his favourite guitar pieces when he walked directly into someone, causing them both to fall ungracefully onto their rears. Antonio had felt a short sensation of contact, albeit fairly weak on his end, but a sensation nonetheless. To top things off, the green eyed, blonde haired Brit offered to help him up afterwards.

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo had never been so happy in his life. He gushed praise and all the idle chit chat he could possibly think of that he missed dearly and with a passion. It was, all in all, the kind of mindless, mundane encounter you'd never remember you had if asked later in the day, but for Antonio, it was more. It meant hope, and it meant a chance of being human again. Or at least acting human.

No one else saw him that day. Only the boy in the corridor. So naturally the now cheerful ghost decided to 'haunt' him. Or in this case, being that he appeared less than dead to the Brit, stalk him. From the moment he pushed open the double doors, to the moment he entered his car to return home, he watched him. _'It must be why I'm still here'_ he thought, giving the matter as little thought as possible. He wasn't one for hatching plots or acing tests in life, and that attribute had been passed down again in death.

He had found out some interesting (and some not so interesting) things about the boy he now knew as Arthur Kirkland.

1. He spoke quickly and used complicated words with his strong accent that Antonio found hard to understand

2. He owned a large, leather-bound book full of Latin that he read ever night

3. He had a close relationship with Alfred F. Jones

and 4, He hung out with his old friend Francis Bonnefoy. And something was different about Francis.

And so, after becoming privy to Arthur's personal timetable and the comings and goings of the Supernatural Defence Squad, Antonio waited at night in the computer room he had died in two years prior to finally confront the one person that may be able to help him move on.

Unfortunately, the others didn't see it that way.

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"Uh... did I say something wrong? Why are you being so quiet? You can see me, right?"

No answer. He saw something like relief in Francis's eyes, which seemed innocent enough, but he also saw dark lust evident in his expression too. Antonio knew he had to be wary around his old friend, as much as he would like to run to him, arms open and laughing in a field of roses.

Antonio realised that similar thoughts must have been going through Francis's mind, as a moment later he ran towards his friend to embrace him in what would surely be the bear hug of the century. As the Frenchman prepared to clamp down on his friend, the off-put Spaniard used his powers from beyond the grave to flicker out of the way and to the other side of the room.

He looked apologetically at his friend, lying in a pile if chairs. "Lo siento. I haven't had company in a while..."

"Never mind that! Although it now seems a tad unlikely, we think you're responsible for possessing a student in this computer room." Arthur raised a furry eyebrow at Antonio after emerging from behind a visibly scared Alfred.

"I- I would never do something so mean! I did watch that incident though. Such an evil man..." Antonio shivered at the memory of a certain dark expression he saw present on the face of a student at the time. He knew the room and its occupants well; what they said to each other, what faces they made, and above all, what they were doing on their computers. He'd seen some... bad uses of technology in his two years, mostly pornography and the sending of chain letters, but some people found more _creative_ uses for their time.

"Ghost-" Arthur addressed Antonio harshly, "you know more than you're letting on".

Emerald and forest green eyes met and Antonio replied slowly, memories of that one computer screen clouding his mind.

"Some things are better left alone-"

Still, Arthur and his unlikely squad had the final word on the matter;

"_Who_ did you see?"

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**A/N: well there you go! I wanted to leave things on a bit of a cliff hanger... anyway, please please let me know what you think! I also like private messages, so don't be shy, I will reply. ;) I also decided that I'm probably following the rules of the Being Human universe for this fic. I'm not sure what the American version is like, but I watched the British one. Well see ya next time!**


	7. Chapter 7- A Warning

**A/N: hello again y'all! Did you miss me? 'Cause I missed you! I've been busy preparing about three or four new hetalia stories I'm probably gonna put up in the summer. Oh yeah, and I've been studying. That too. Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter; I have a vague idea of where I (maybe) want it to go... **

**I still haven't bought hetalia but I'm working on it. But for now, I don't own it. This is AU in case you haven't guessed already.**

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"Who did you see?"

Alfred was still trying his absolute best to hide behind a visibly angry Arthur when the ghost prepared to reveal the possible culprit. He didn't much fancy having a conversation with a spirit that didn't involve some kind of exorcism, but this was an important moment for their little gang. Besides, with Arthur there, he felt just a bit safer. The American couldn't put his finger on exactly why he valued 'Spooky Arthur's' company so much, he just knew that no one else made him laugh like he could. And no one else had that voice, and that knack for sarcasm. Arthur was just... Arthur. Yep, there was just no other way to describe him. Alfred took some solace in this and let out a little, nervous chuckle, temporarily forgetting the situation.

Opposite the group, Antonio, still looking a little too 'dead' for Alfred's liking, eyed up his confidents and spoke. "There was this boy... With glasses." He began, his brow knotting into an expression of extreme concentration and some regret.

"He used the computer to somehow- I don't know- control that boy." Noticing their bewildered faces, the ex-pupil made a more obvious statement; "He made him attack Sadiq."

A few seconds of contemplation and plotting amongst the boys let a soft silence fall across the room. Alfred, not being one for over-thinking situations, took this time to re-adjust his glasses. He wondered if this would be a fairly normal Thursday night in the future; if they would always be spending all their time sneaking around and deciphering clues. After picturing this new and vastly different lifestyle, he decided it wouldn't be that bad, providing he could still catch the evening episodes of _the walking dead_. He didn't care if it scared the bejesus out of him, it was still badass.

"Alfred, will you please stop daydreaming about violence and various American dramas? We have a job to do here" Arthur sighed, folding his arms.

The American jumped back ever so slightly and looked at his friend with wary eyes. "H- how did you know I was thinking about that!?" _'Is this some new kind of superpower he's developed?'_ He wondered, not sure how he felt about Arthur's otherworldly display of magic.

"It's bloody obvious. You always have that ridiculous constipated look when you think about that 'hero' rubbish."

Choosing to ignore the obvious diss, Alfred spoke up for the first time to give his opinion. "Well maybe this dude uses all forms of technology to reprogram people." Thinking about the conclusion he just reached, Alfred let himself get a little excited and felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. The very best part of this case was that it had absolutely nothing to do with the ghosts. Only good old, non-scary Sci-Fi. He could almost forget that an actual ghost was standing next to him. Putting his arm around him, even.

Waaaait a minute. The oblivious American looked to his shoulder to find a content Antonio beaming down at him like there was no tomorrow. Which Alfred was convinced there wouldn't be, the way things were going.

"What. Are. You. Doing?" He only dared speak in slow syllables, as if raising his voice would anger the spirit. But there was really no chance of that happening. Despite all the signs, this American was still convinced that harmless, adorable Antonio was out for his soul.

"Ah, you know Amigo... Life's good, for some reason you can all see me now... And we're all going to stop the bad guy as a team!" He giggled, much like a junior high school girl "it doesn't get much better than this!"

"Well, we best be off then. Time's getting on and we've got a physical description. It shouldn't be too hard from here on out." Arthur made a gesture for his team to leave the building before pointing at his watch. That was that then. Alfred shakily pried the Spaniard's not quite corporeal arm off his broad shoulders and shuffled nervously out of the classroom.

"Nooooo... Don't leave meeeee!" Sobs could be heard from the room as they made their way back, trying not to feel too morally obliged to comfort the already dead teen, who would surely be 'forever alone'.

Arthur took a sip from his morning coffee and pretended it tasted nice. He often found that a pleasing, hot beverage started the day well. Unfortunately, he hadn't consumed a pleasing, hot beverage since their town had been forced on an unwelcome 'tea hiatus'. Some kind of Icelandic ash cloud had prevented shipments to their landlocked community, most of which had been tea. Arthur shook his body a little, expelling the dark thoughts from his head. His therapist had told him to steer away from depressing memories, and there were none more depressing than that.

He had arrived at school exactly two hours early for a few good reasons. Firstly, he needed to do some digging into the nameless, but no longer faceless culprit Antonio had discovered. He was convinced this would take little more than an hour with the help of mister popular himself, Alfred. The other, and considerably more arduous task he had to complete this chilly morning, was to pick up a certain rowdy Frenchman from his sleepover party with Antonio. Last night Francis was more than reluctant to leave his old friend he had just been reunited with, and in a sea of spewing tears and smiles, they embraced and spent the night discussing the reassembling of the 'Bad Touch Trio'. Arthur could only guess what the hell that was- some kind of boy bad? The names of Porn stars? With those two, it could have been both or neither. Fortunately for him, he didn't really care.

He was, however, slightly bothered about the ghost and why they could suddenly see him. Perhaps his magic made it possible to view supernatural entities? Maybe it was his magic that let the others see Antonio? There wasn't anyway of knowing. At least, not until they'd figured this out.

From across the yard, a familiar face made its way towards him. Dressed in hipster pink as always, sassy Feliks Łukasiewicz looked as though he was a man on a mission; striding towards the Brit at an unnatural pace. Arthur noticed his rhinestone covered Blackberry in his pocket. He called out.

"Good morning Feliks. Are you... alright?"

Nothing. The Polish boy just kept walking towards the flustered Arthur Kirkland until he was close enough to pick him up by his collar. Arthur's blonde hair fell over his eyes but he could still make out his attacker's face and noticed how his eyes were not quite familiar.

"This is a warning. Consider yourself lucky I don't kill you right here on the spot." Feliks- no, not Feliks, twisted his head to the side looking coldly at the British teen.

"Who- who... Are you?" He managed to mutter, amidst the strain of being held up by his collarbone at the hands of a 5"4 skinny boy.

Whoever was talking through the usually sociable Pole sighed slightly. "Silly boy. I thought I made it obvious- NO MORE SNOOPING AROUND." His once high pitched voice had been mixed in with another, more gruff one as he pulled Arthur back, preparing for a throw.

"You want to play detective? You want to join this world? Well here's your first taste of reality!"

Before Arthur Kirkland had time to protest, he was thrown through the air at a rather alarming height before hitting the smooth, white walls of the school and losing what little consciousness had left. He could only wonder how much that was going to hurt when he woke up. _If_ he woke up at all.


	8. Chapter 8- The Scene of The Crime

**A/N: I'm back in the game people! :D I hope you didn't miss me too much, but don't worry, I've now adopted a reclusive lifestyle and have given up my social life in favour of writing. In other words, real life sucks! I'd rather stay in my room and write crack. :3 I digress... I hope y'all enjoy this little chapter and I'm sorry it's ridiculously long. I'm writing this after prom, and I'm really tired... ^^; Also, I hope exams went well for everyone! This author is certainly very scared for results day... I don't own nothin'!**

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The morning was pretty nice, as mornings go. There were birds in the sky, and said sky was void of clouds. Local flora and fauna seemed to be prospering and content in the early breeze. You know, all the little things in life that make the day seem slightly less insufferable and more stereotypically pleasant. Alfred wasn't usually at all interested in the comings and goings of neighbouring animals and their dispositions on certain days, but the blue skies and cheerful dogs pulling their owners across the street seemed to invigorate him on this occasion. Why this was exactly, he couldn't say. Nevertheless, he was more than pleased to walk to school in the blissful heat. In fact, he was grateful for his mother's early asthma attack that had woken him thick-voiced and blurry-eyed that morning, as it meant he could arrive at school in time to meet his prudishly strict companion for the days sleuthing session. He cheerfully skipped passed an elderly couple out for a morning walk, wishing them an equally pleasant morning as he did so. Somehow, the thought of spending the entire day with Iggy was even more appealing than the surprisingly bright weather. He could imagine the British boy's soft chuckle even now...

Not that he liked it _that_ much or anything. Not at all.

The large gates of the academy could now be seen from across the way where Alfred strolled. He knew that from this distance, they appeared pristine and perfectly white despite their years of being heaved open and closed every morning and evening of the school week. It was only when you got in close that the dents and paint chippings could be seen to the naked eye, and only the students themselves had the pleasure of noticing the poor quality of the building. The teachers seemed to be completely blind to it or unwilling to even bat an eyelid at the old wings and corridors. Alfred didn't particularly mind the poor upkeep of the establishment; if anything he'd grown so used to it that he kind of liked it. Arthur, on the other hand, had the capacity to bitch and whine about the graffiti covered walls and scratched desks all morning (and for a good part of the afternoon too). The very idea of an improper school building and the general disregard for such a building's conditions was unacceptable to him. It was that very thought that gave his British friend the idea to run for student body president. Even now, in the perfectly balmy conditions of the morning, Alfred felt himself shudder at the thought. His friend had had enough trouble fitting in as it was, gunning for a public position like that would no doubt only encourage the bullies. In addition to that, he would be running against the infamous Ludwig Beilschmidt; student council president two years running. And still at large now.

"Al... w-wait up...!" A small voice 'shouted' behind him. He was surprised to find his younger brother running up to meet him, short of breath as if he'd ran the entire journey. "Mattie! Hey! How did you get to school so quickly? I didn't even notice you." At this, he saw the mild-mannered Matthew sigh. Straightening his glasses he replied meekly. "I've been with you the entire time..."

"You have, huh?" Following the usual routine, the loud American shrugged it off and gave his brother a big pat on the back that nearly sent him flying. Hey, what can I say? It's how he shows his affection. The two had always been close despite being as different as night and day. Matthew Williams-Jones was quiet (and that's an understatement), kind and intellectual. Alfred was bright, cheerful and athletic. Nevertheless, Alfred always stuck by Matthew and had even helped him through a tough time of bullying. The memories of Matthew growing quieter and sadder had been somewhat rekindled in him when he met Arthur; he had seen it all before, the usual routine of mocking and belittlement. Now he knew how important it was to stop it. He knew that the faceless, speechless victims had voices of their own and personalities that couldn't be ignored.

The two had passed the gates now and were making their way across the courtyard towards the stone steps that lead to the great double doors of the school. Throughout the entirety of their journey, they'd only passed one other student which struck them as odd. The early start had meant fewer students, but not none. _Where were they all?_

A light tap to his shoulder caught Alfred's attention and he turned around to meet the eyes of a very frightened looking Matthew. "Don't freak out Al, but look." The quiet blonde raised a pale finger to point at twenty odd students crowded around something- or someone on the floor. The majority of faces were lit up with concern and pity, and some phones had been produced to dial for an ambulance. However, a couple of older looking boys were clearly laughing at what seemed to be a seriously injured Arthur leaning against the wall. Some were snapping photos of the limp looking Brit, ignoring the fact that his head was bleeding significantly. Alfred was most certainly freaking out. Not only had Artie been attacked, but some assholes were making fun of him? He was just about ready to bash their brains in.

"Nothing to see here everyone! I think we've all had our fill of 'mock the bleeding crazy guy'!" A French accent shouted at the crowd as Francis ran towards them, worry very apparent in his clear cerulean eyes. His timing was impeccable, to say the least. The severity of the situation must have finally sunk in as the crowd dispersed and made way for Francis. "Angleterre! What have they done to you mon amis?" sobs wracked through his body as he hugged the unconscious boy with all the dramatic flair he could muster. And being the _'tres bien'_ fashionista he was, that was a lot. Whilst the others continued to smother Arthur with hugs and concerned glances, Alfred clenched his fists and bit down hard on his lower lip. He had to find whoever was responsible for the attacks. He was sure the phantom attacker was related to the bludgeoning of Arthur; it was the same violent calling card.

"I'm sorry about Arthur, mi amigo but you might want to take a look at this." The sudden appearance of the Spanish ghost scared the crap out of him and caught the American off guard. Antonio gave the other boy a worried yet stern glance, apparently having noticed his anger. "Are you okay?"

"You don't need to worry about me. Iggy's the one with the head injury. You said you have something to show me?" If he hadn't been so angry, Alfred would have been impressed with how he handled a conversation with someone from beyond the grave. Still, there were more important things to be concerning himself with than his own personal growth. "Si." The brunette produced a sleek black smartphone decorated with the French flag. "Franny was sent a message. That's how we knew about Arthur." Fully aware of the Spaniard's emerald eyes watching him as he did so, Alfred unlocked the screen of the device and read the message it displayed;

**_From: Unknown Number _**

**_I don't believe we've had the honour of speaking before. I have had a chat with your little English friend though. If you want him to live you'd better call an ambulance now. If you want your whole gang to survive the semester, then you'd better keep you noses out of my business. See you at the party._**

The first thing that struck the curious teen as odd, was that the mystery sender seemed to be incapable of typing in text speak. In this day and age, who couldn't? The second (and considerably more important) clue was the last sentence. _'See you at the party'._ What party? Was it a threat? "I don't get it. What the hell does this guy want? I haven't even heard of any parties being thrown!" he mused allowed, noticing the sound of sirens growing louder in the background. Matthew looked up at his brother from where he knelt on the hard, hot concrete that had retained a good deal of heat from the sun's rays. "He must mean Gil's- uh, I mean Gilbert's party this Saturday..." The boy blushed at the unintentional familiarity of using the boisterous German's nickname aloud. His closeness with one of the most popular boy's in school caused a few raised eyebrows from Francis and Antonio. Alfred on the other hand, was more cautious than curious. He knew Gilbert and was fully aware of what an ass he could be. Why was his angelic little bro hanging out with _him_? Meanwhile, Francis and Antonio appeared to be plotting away, smirking at the thought of attending Gilbert's party and despite the situation, let out a few excited chuckles. As the group continued warily thinking their options through (which took longer than usual, being that Arthur was usually the one doing the thinking), a bright ambulance sped up to them past the tall school gates and veered to a stop.

"Guys, if we want to stop this jerk, we're going to have a busy Saturday night."


End file.
